Confessor: Chainfire Trilogy Part 3

Her breath caught in her throat, preventing the scream locked inside her from escaping.

Huge wings snapped open, spreading wide. With the moon behind those wings, Rachel could see veins pulsing in the skin stretched across the wings.

It was a gar.

Rachel just knew that in an instant the beast was going to tear both of them apart.

"Rachel, don't be afraid," her mother said in a gentle voice.

Rachel couldn't move her legs. "What?"

"This is Gratch. Gratch is a friend of Richard's." She turned to the deadly beast and laid a hand on the great furry arm, giving it a soothing stroke. "Aren't you, Gratch?"

The mouth split wide. Huge fangs glistened in the light of the lantern. The vapor of its breath hissed out between those fangs up into the cold air.

"Grrratch luuug Raaaach aaarg," the creature growled.

Rachel blinked. It wasn't a growl, exactly. It sounded like it had actually been words.

"Did it just say that it loved Richard?"

Gratch nodded earnestly. Rachel's mother nodded.

"That's right. Gratch loves Richard. The same as you."

"Grrratch luuug Raaaach aaarg," the beast repeated.

This time, Rachel could recognize better what Gratch had said.

"Gratch is here to help Richard. But we need you, too."

Rachel finally took her eyes off the huge beast to look over at her mother.

"What can I do? I'm not big, like Gratch."

"No, you aren't. That's why Gratch can carry you. And you, in turn, can carry a message."

CHAPTER 52

Updrafts buffeted Richard as he stood on the narrow road leading from the People's Palace down the side of the plateau. Nathan, standing to his left, leaned over the edge to take a look down the precipitous drop. Even at a time like this the prophet had the curiosity of a child. A thousand-year-old child, no less. Richard supposed that being kept as a prisoner one's whole life could do that to a person.

Nicci, to Richard's right, was in a quiet mood. Richard couldn't say that he blamed her. Cara and Verna waited behind him. Both looked to be in a mood to throw someone off the side of the cliff. Richard knew, despite appearances, that it was really Nathan who was in the mood to do such a thing. Since he'd found out that Ann had been killed he had been quietly seething. Richard could easily understand such silent rage.

Gears squeaked and the heavy catch clattered as the guards worked to turn the crank to lower the bridge. As the heavy beams and planks slowly descended, Richard could finally begin to see the face of the solitary soldier standing on the other side, waiting. The first thing he saw were the dark eyes, glaring across the abyss.

The young man was big, just coming into his prime, with a massive chest and arms. Greasy strands of hair hung down to his powerful shoulders. He didn't look to have bathed in his life. Richard could smell him from across the chasm.

The young man looked to be developing into a fine brute for the Imperial Order. He was an excellent example of a common Order soldier: a contemptuous, undisciplined thug, a young man governed by his lusts and emotions, and not in the least bit interested in the damage and suffering he caused in order to have what he wanted. He would be without mercy, compassion, or empathy for those he hurt. Their suffering would mean nothing to him. He was completely self-absorbed and devoted entirely to his own wants, not caring what he had to do to satisfy his desires.

He was typical of the regular Imperial Order soldiers Richard had seen.

Unaccustomed to consequences, he was a youth whose muscles had developed far in advance of his intellect, and so he would be only vaguely familiar with what it meant to be a civilized man. Worse, the concept would hold no interest for him, since it offered no immediate gratification of his urges.

He had been selected specifically to send a message. He was a reminder-in all his savage glory-of just what sort of men waited below on the Azrith Plain.

Still, the individual standing there by himself, in his dark leather armor plates, straps, studs, tattoos, and belts laden with crude weapons, really meant nothing. It was the mind of the man that mattered.

And that mind was infused, possessed, and commanded by a dream-walker, Emperor Jagang.

The emperor had made contact with them through the journey book that Verna still carried. Ann had for many years carried the twin of that journey book, but it was now in the possession of Sister Ulicia and, therefore, Jagang.

Verna had been been totally surprised by the contact. Richard had not. He had been expecting it. In fact, he was the one who had asked Verna to check in her journey book for a message.

Jagang had wanted a meeting. He said he would come alone, but for his own safety in the mind of one of his men. He said that Richard could bring whoever he wanted to the meeting-as many as he wanted, a whole army if he wanted. Jagang was hardly worried about the life of the soldier. The emperor had said that even if they decided to kill the soldier, he didn't care.